


Overgrown

by VermontScribble



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, God thinks they're stupid, Long Hair, M/M, What can she do though?, gays being cute, look I didn't even swear in this one, they're soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 07:44:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21267518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VermontScribble/pseuds/VermontScribble
Summary: Crowley’s hair is a little...overgrown.





	Overgrown

**Author's Note:**

> Good Omens! Good Omens!! I feel like these are the fics that get the most reads and I can appreciate the energy for these lovely ineffable husbands, because I too, enjoy them. I hope this one will make up for the last little story which, if I’m entirely honest, wasn’t my best work. I’m happy to be writing this one because Crowley’s long hair is one of my favourite things. Also, these might get shorter because I’m writing something for NaNoWriMo, but I’ll still be bringing these out when I can.

Things that went under the category of overgrown were things like plants, gardens, forests and other foliage that had become unkempt and untamed by humans that simply couldn’t control it. Things that shouldn’t be under the category of overgrown were -- and it was one thing in Aziraphale’s mind -- hair. Any  _ kind _ of hair. Unfortunately, Crowley liked to rob the barber, it would seem. 

It wasn’t that Aziraphale didn’t like those long locks of auburn, but they were very long indeed, cascading over Crowley’s shoulders and hanging down his back carefully. Sometimes he pulled his hair into a careful ponytail, but most of the time, those silky locks hung just where they had always done. 

Crowley enjoyed wearing his hair long. It meant he could flip it over his shoulder to spite Karen whenever she yapped at him for swearing in front of her equally annoying son. Or maybe he could braid it and pretend he was that actress, Elsa. God was probably looking at him and wondering why she ever let him saunter down the stairs to Hell. Beelzebub, on the other hand, wished her hair would behave as Crowley’s did. 

Sometimes, though, it was longer than other days. Crowley changed his hair more than billboards changed their adverts and it was a little confusing to the onlookers who wondered how exactly he did it. That was a secret he never would tell, as he always happily said. 

* * *

“Crowley, dear,” Aziraphale says that evening, book in hand like always, “why do you rob the barber?” 

“Pardon us, love?” Crowley asks. The phrases Aziraphale used weren’t exactly the most modern, but he supposed that’s why people were so fond of dear old Aziraphale. Because he was a quaint old man that people found themselves so enamoured with. 

“Why don’t you get a haircut?” Aziraphale asks, bringing his cocoa to his lips and gently blowing the steam away. The way he was so gentle with everything made Crowley’s eyebrows raise. Aziraphale had the tenderness of a mother and the glow of one too, and hopefully, God didn’t notice that too soon. 

“You don’t like my hair, angel?” Crowley asks, reclining himself on the sofa and kicking his feet up. His boots had been discarded onto the floor, showing the scratched up bottoms. His socks were going threadbare, too. For someone who wears new things every decade, Aziraphale assumed Crowley would have taken a little more care of his shoes. 

“Oh! Heavens, Crowley, no. I think your hair is wonderful. Just a tad overgrew.” Aziraphale says with a chuckle. Crowley cocks his head to the side and looks at Aziraphale as if he were an entity he’d never seen before. He looked shocked, but Aziraphale could tell the demon was merely mocking hurt feelings. 

“Well...I like it being long. I mean, I just feel better this way.” Crowley rakes a hand through his auburn waves and looks at Aziraphale with narrowed eyes. Those beautiful yellow eyes that Aziraphale felt himself getting lost in more than once. 

“If having long hair makes you happy, then what do I know, eh? I just thought --,” Aziraphale goes silent, looking down. Had he upset Crowley for asking? He suddenly felt as if he as being rude, blood running cold under his hands. His shoulders sagged and he looked back up with large eyes. Crowley smiles sympathetically and wants so badly to pat his angel on the shoulder.

“It’s fine, angel. I know you like me with short hair.” 

“No! Now, not at all, Crowley! I just like you with...shorter hair than this.” Aziraphale’s cheeks are dusted pink as he looks at Crowley with a soft smile. He hoped he hadn’t offended his beloved, but it felt as if he had. Crowley chuckles, dangling his arm off the side of the sofa. 

“So you want me to get a haircut, angel?” Crowley asks, still raking his bony fingers through his hair. Aziraphale gave him a considerate look for a minute and -- despite everything he’d said -- shook his head. Crowley’s eyebrows raised and he looked at the angel, baffled. 

“Oh? How come? You said you preferred it shorter.” 

“Your long hair is good for one thing, Anthony.” Aziraphale gets up out of his armchair opposite the demon, gesturing for Crowley to budge over. The demon obliged, allowing his angel to sit down beside him. 

“What’s that then, angel?” He asks. Aziraphale lifts a hand and runs his fingers through Crowley’s hair, too. He loved the way it felt. Soft and silky, like it had been spun by fairies. It wasn’t like hair at all, not with the way it felt between his fingers. Crowley smirks. 

“Nice, innit.” 

“Therapeutic, actually, Anthony. You know, I do quite like your long hair. Promise me you might keep it like this for a while.” Aziraphale says, leaning his head on Crowley’s shoulder. Why he had ever thought his demon having long hair was a bad thing, he didn’t know, but sometimes the short hair was a prettier look. 

* * *

Crowley had kept the promise of wearing long hair for a month. After then, man-buns were a thing; he hated the idea of having his hair looking like another generic long-haired man. So he lopped it off. Not by going to the hairdresser, though. Sometimes it was a whole deal easier to just miracle it to a different style. 

Aziraphale didn’t mind short-haired Crowley either. It was nice to ruffle that auburn hair spiked up like the lads of the streets. And as much as Crowley pretended to hate it when his angel did it, he was rather fond of having his hair played with. It was calming for him as much as it was for Aziraphale, but he would never admit that he felt that way. He was a demon, he wasn’t supposed to be soft. Wasn’t supposed to enjoy soft things either. Hell, he was weak sometimes. 

Aziraphale did say a few things about Crowley. Crowley’s hair was a little….overgrown. But it was refreshing to see it short for once. Maybe now he could see where he was going when he was driving. 

**Author's Note:**

> You’ve made it to the inevitable end of this fic. Have a cookie. Please leave kudos and comments and consider checking out my other works if this is the first one of mine that you’ve read. Also, hop over to my Tumblr, ducky-writez, to request things from me. Also, note that I might be getting a job and so these stories might take a little longer for me to get out. Please don’t hate me for late updates! Love you all!!


End file.
